


Home for the Hell-idays

by PandaInTheStars



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Chloe KNOWS, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Holiday Themes, Humor, I mean look at those prompts, Pre-Relationship, probably eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-09-24 12:05:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17100284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaInTheStars/pseuds/PandaInTheStars
Summary: A series of holiday-themed oneshots based on Lucifer Bingo prompts.Round 1: Singing - Lucifer and Trixie go caroling.Round 2: Fix-it - It’s New Year’s Eve and Chloe Decker’s partner is Satan himself. He insists on being her personal electrician.Round 3: WILD CARD - Dan drowns his sorrows on Valentine’s Day. Lucifer intervenes.Round 4: Oblivious - Lucifer has always acted strangely around Halloween.Round 5: Accidental Injury - Chloe and Dan do Thanksgiving Day dishes. The Devil did the cooking, after all.





	1. Singing

Lucifer didn’t know how this could have happened.

Actually, that was a lie. He knew exactly how this happened. Lucifer had been minding his own business, changing the Detective’s desktop screensaver to something a bit more exciting (He had received some wonderful ‘Tribe Night’ photos from Ms. Lopez, and was having fun editing them into a slideshow. He was sure the Detective would appreciate the shots from when she had obviously achieved the necessary level of inebriation to start, ahem, ‘ripping her clothes off.’) when the Detective herself rudely interrupted him.

She slammed her hands down onto the desk and gripped so hard her knuckles turned white. Her top was crooked. Her hair was in completely disarray. In other words, gorgeous. “Lucifer,” she said, deadly serious. “I need a favor.”

“A favor?” he asked, wary. Things had been going okay between him and the Detective in the aftermath of his hellish revelation… and the aftermath of the repercussions that revelation had wreaked on their lives. But still, Lucifer thought. This was a bit much.

“No, not that kind of favor,” Chloe said, irritated. “I need you to take Trixie caroling.”

“Caroling,” Lucifer spoke slowly, enunciating as if the word was foreign.

“Yes, caroling. You know, singing? _Oh Come All Ye Faithful_? _Deck the Halls_? _Silent Night_?”

“You’ve had a child, Detective. You must realize that that night was anything but silent. And think of all the animals that were there–”

“Lucifer, shut up! I don’t have time for this.”

Lucifer shut up, mollified.

“Look, Dan had an allergic reaction to those Christmas cookies in the break room. I need to get him to the hospital NOW. And Trixie needs to be picked up from school in half an hour. Please, will you do this for me? Please Lucifer, I need you.”

Instantly, Lucifer rose from his chair, abandoning the amazing work he was doing on Microsoft Paint. “Of course, Detective. How do I perform this ‘caroling’? Where do I take the Spawn?” To which the Detective gave him a very quick rundown of the particulars.

So that’s how Lucifer found himself walking down the street amongst a group of doting parents behind 30-something 7 to 12-year-olds, each of them dressed to the nines in their finest holiday gear.

Truly, Hell on Earth.

Of course, the single and not-so-single ladies (and several of the men) in the parental crowd had already sidled up to Lucifer and attempted to engage him in conversation. He rebuffed their advances for the most part, but one woman was especially persistent. She wore a sky blue coat with white puffy cuffs and a matching hat, even though this was Los Angeles and temperatures never dropped below 50 Fahrenheit at this time of the day. Lucifer noted with particular distaste that she wore a studded crucifix necklace that dwarfed Ms. Lopez’s in size by at least an order of magnitude.

“It’s just so _wonderful_ , you know?” she exclaimed, either ignoring or unaware of Lucifer’s lack of enthusiasm. “The little ones practice for weeks. And it brings such joy to the households that sign up. Mostly the elderly, you see – people who might be feeling lonely at this time of year.” She sighed and cast an adoring glance at the children in front of them. “And don’t they just look _lovely_? That’s my Georgia over there – oh, that’s Georgia spelt J-Y-O-R-J-A. She fretted for _hours_ over what to wear.”

Lucifer assumed that Georgia (or Jyorja?!) was the petite girl marching along with the other children as far away from her mother as physically possible. She wore a miniature duplicate of the sky blue coat. He winced.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m _Angela_ by the way.”

Of course she was.

She offered her hand to him as though she expected him to kiss it. Lucifer took it reluctantly and gave her a grin that was all teeth. “Lucifer. _Morningstar_.”

“Uh… oh.” She weakly extricated her hand from his grip. She tried to muster up something resembling her previous smile. “And uh… which one is yours?”

“Beatrice Espinoza. But she’s not mine. She’s the Detective’s. And the Douche’s, I suppose. But the Detective had to take the Douche to the hospital after he had a rather embarrassing reaction to some peanut-laden holiday treats. So I’m just here in lieu of.”

Angela stared at him. “I, uh… I see. Oh, Georgia!” she suddenly cried to her daughter. Georgia looked like she wanted to sink into the Earth. “Don’t _do_ that with your gloves. You’ll ruin them. Terribly sorry,” she said to Lucifer, before rushing off. Lucifer wasn’t exactly sad to see her go.

Soon enough, they arrived at the first house on the carolers’ schedule. It was a modest townhouse with a brick front. The children assembled around the front steps and the eager parents gathered behind. Mr. Parsons, evidently the choirmaster, who was a weaselly man with a stressed expression, pushed himself to the front of the crowd and knocked on the front door.

An older couple answered the knock. The woman was short and reminded Lucifer very much of the Detective, if the Detective’s hair was silver instead of blonde. The man was at least a foot taller than his wife and wore a ridiculous Christmas jumper: a sexy Mrs. Claus (or as sexy as she could be in knitted form) surrounded by the words ‘Darling, you’re my ho, ho, ho.’ Lucifer approved.

They exchanged pleasantries with Mr. Parsons and then Mr. Parsons stepped back and turned around to begin the concert. He lifted his hands and a hush fell over the group. “Remember, kids. Smile!” he stage whispered to the children, and then he brought his hands down. And the children sang.

It was quite possibly the worst thing Lucifer had ever heard.

Evidently, an attempt was being made at _Gloria, In Excelsis Deo_ but it was practically unrecognizable. Mostly because only about half of the children knew the words. The rest were either mumbling along or showcasing their independence by striking off on completely different tunes. _Jingle Bells_ could be heard. And _Good King Wenceslas_. A couple children had latched a little too enthusiastically onto the ‘glorias,’ bringing them into deeper and deeper octaves until they ran out of breath, before starting again. Clearly, no attempt had been made at separating the children into altos, sopranos, tenors, and basses, even though puberty had obviously set in with many of them and their voices had changed.

Lucifer was happy to hear under the cacophony that the Spawn was doing reasonably well. Nothing to write home about, but her voice was strident and she knew what she was doing. It was terribly unfortunate that the girl next to her was… screaming. She was just screaming.

It needn’t be mentioned that almost none of the children were in tune.

Lucifer lasted less than a minute before he was barging to the front, yelling “Stop! Stop this horrendous din!” He reached the top step and pushed Mr. Parsons unceremoniously out of the way. He faced the children with a murderous glare, hands on his hips. The whole crowd grew silent. “You call that singing?” he asked rhetorically. “I mean, I hate my half-brother’s birthday as much as the next person, but if you’re going to sing you might as well put some effort into it.”

“You,” Lucifer said, pointing to a small boy near the front. “I know you know the words. Why aren’t you singing louder?” Without waiting for an answer, he started herding the boy with his arms. “Never mind. If I don’t hear you next time I’ll be very cross. Now stand over here with the other boys. And you, over here. You, come forward.” And he shuffled the children around one by one. Mr. Parsons watched rather helplessly.

“Now, if you don’t know the words just hum along. I know you all know the tune. And there’s a special place in Hell for people who drag out the ‘glorias.’ You know who you are.” Finally, Lucifer pointed an accusatory finger at screaming girl. “ _You_ can either shut up or learn to control your volume.” Screaming girl nodded, meekly.

“Now, let’s try that again, shall we?” And Lucifer raised his hands to conduct.

The result wasn’t perfect by any means. But it was coherent, at least, and recognizable. The verses were all quite muddled, but everyone could join in on the ‘glorias,’ and they were quite wonderful. Lucifer conducted until the last _in excelsis deo_ , and finished with a flourish.

There was rapturous applause.

Lucifer was used to being the center of attention, but he found himself a little embarrassed by the clear adoration on the faces of the children, parents, the elderly couple, and even Mr. Parsons. He cleared his throat. “Well, I, uh… That’s more like it.” He moved to step back into the crowd but was stopped by a hand on his chest.

Mr. Parsons whisper-screamed in his ear. “Are you _kidding_ me? I’ve _never_ heard them sound that good, and I’ve been working with them for _weeks_. Do _Hark the Herald_ next, and then _We Three Kings_. Then we’ll move to the next house.” And he pushed Lucifer back into position.

Bewildered, Lucifer rocked back on his feet and raised his hands again. His eyes moved from Mr. Parsons, to the couple behind him, to the parents, and finally to the children. His gaze rested on Beatrice, whose eyes were wide. She looked so much like the Detective. “Right, well, I’m sure you know how this goes now.”

And they sang.

Lucifer took the choir through their entire repertoire. It was nauseating to hear so much praise for his half-brother and Father, but at least the music was decent. He moved his arms to guide the children through the verses, emphasizing some parts over others. He even found himself mouthing along to some of the catchier tunes. He finished to thunderous applause.

“You should sing, Lucifer! You’re really good at it!”

Lucifer looked down to see young Beatrice staring up at him. “Oh, I, er… couldn’t possibly…” he stammered.

“Wait a minute. You’re that night club owner, aren’t you? With the piano bar? You should totally sing!” piped up a voice from the parents.

Soon more and more voices were clamoring for Lucifer to sing. Lucifer raised his hands in defeat. “Okay, okay. Fine. What should I sing?” he asked.

A small voice rose over the sudden hailstorm of suggestions. It was a very young boy, no older than 7. He spoke with a lisp. “Something pwetty. Wiv’ angels and holly-loo-yahs.”

Angels and hallelujahs? It had been a very, _very_ long time since Lucifer had last sang with the seraphim. But being a member of the heavenly choir was just as much a part of Lucifer’s being as being the bringer of light or the punisher of evil deeds. The Words and Hymns were still written within his soul. But which to sing? Too many outright praised his Father or His works. But there was one… It praised the universe in general, and Lucifer had played a not too insignificant part in its creation, so he could take some pride in it.

Lucifer waited until the crowd quieted down and then he sang. He started soft, weaving his way tentatively through the multi-tonal Enochian syllables. Then his voice grew stronger as the lyrics grew darker and more guttural. There is fire in creation, after all, wherever there is light. He raised his face to his stars above, only a few of which were visible through the perpetual LA smog. He closed his eyes as the music washed over him. He sang about dust and darkness, of the inevitable creep of gravity and explosion. Of matter, dark and light, forming and destroying itself. Of the miracle of life and the ever-changing possibilities it represented. Lucifer had to concentrate to keep his wings tucked into their pocket of unreality. He could feel them long to shine in concert with the music of the spheres.

When he finished he opened his eyes.

There was dead silence.

Everyone was staring at Lucifer, mouths open. Several of the parents were crying. One woman had apparently fainted into her husband’s arms. Lucifer could see Angela clutching her crucifix, her other hand holding her daughter’s shoulder in a white-knuckled grip.

It was the children who reacted first. They started clapping. Then they were cheering and jumping up and down with glee. And then Beatrice ran up to Lucifer and gave him a big hug around his waist. Lucifer couldn’t find it in his heart to rebuff her. Especially when she said, “That was _awesome_. You’re so good at caroling, Lucifer!”

From behind him, Lucifer heard the elderly woman say to her husband, “They should get this guy every year.” To which her husband chuckled.

Lucifer felt something flutter within him. He felt lighter… Lighter than he had in a very long time. He turned to Mr. Parsons, Beatrice still clinging to his shirt. Mr. Parsons was still staring at him, frozen. The choirmaster’s eyes were the size of small dinner plates and a little drool was caught in the corner of his open mouth.

Lucifer grinned. “Right, then. Next house?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any resemblance to events that occur in “Just William at Christmas” as written by Richmal Crompton and read by Martin Jarvis is completely accidental. Oh, and “Sister Act,” I guess.
> 
> Happy Holidays!


	2. Fix-it

“It’s all _very_ simple,” Lucifer said. He gestured with his hand, the one that was not entirely covered with strings of LEDs. The lights wound around both of his arms, weaved around his neck, and dropped to make several loops around his waist.

Chloe Decker’s partner was Satan himself.

“We tried the string in your kitchen outlet, so we know it works. So the problem must be with the plugs out here.” And he pointed to one of the electrical outlets sticking out of the wall of the courtyard of Chloe’s apartment building.

He insisted on being her personal electrician.

“We should probably try something else we know works just to be sure. Hang on a moment. I’ll get your blender.” And he waltzed back indoors.

It was just something that hit her sometimes.

Chloe followed Lucifer inside saying “Not the blender, Lucifer. Get a power adapter or something” when she was almost bowled over by her daughter, who was laughing hysterically. A moment later she was followed by Ella Lopez, who had apparently engaged Trixie in an impromptu game of tag.

Chloe stopped for a moment to watch her daughter get chased around the courtyard by the forensic scientist. Trixie’s squeals echoed off the hard surfaces. Dan (wearing Chloe’s ‘kiss the cook’ apron) was busy by the grill flipping burgers. Chloe’s mother fussed with the table, making sure the paper plates and plastic forks were placed just so. Linda and Maze sat in two foldout chairs, so close their knees were touching, chatting and sipping champagne.

The street Chloe’s apartment was situated on had a mostly unobstructed view of the sky above Santa Monica pier, so the plan was to have a late cookout dinner and then watch the fireworks together. But it would be getting dark soon, and there were very few lights in the apartment courtyard. It was Dan’s ‘bright’ idea to repurpose Chloe’s Christmas tree lights that had yet to be put away for the season. Lucifer had then eagerly taken up the task.

Chloe was broken out of her reverie by the sound of a button being rapidly pushed on and off, on and off. She looked down to see Lucifer, still covered in Christmas lights, squatting over her blender. The blender was plugged into the outdoor outlet and Lucifer was rapidly clicking its power button. “Yep, it’s definitely the plug,” he said.

This was the Prince of Darkness. The Father of All Lies. The Adversary.

He looked up at her. “Do you have an extension cord? Maybe we could just plug them in inside.”

Chloe shook her head. “I don’t have anything long enough.”

Lucifer hmm’ed and rubbed his chin in thought. He then unplugged the blender and stood up. “Well, the GFCI’s fine. Maybe it’s a blown circuit.” He turned to face her, clutching the blender to his LED-bound chest. “Where’s the building’s breaker box?”

Because the Devil knew these things. He knew about GFCIs and breaker boxes. Hell ( _Hell!_ ), he knew about _electricity_.

Lucifer Morningstar was Chloe Decker’s best friend. Finding out that someone you know is really a supernatural being who has been alive since the beginning of time is the sort of thing you share with your best friend. But Chloe couldn’t. Because Lucifer _was_ the supernatural being and he was apparently as old as the universe. He always had been and he always would be. So it caught her off guard that she couldn’t share her shock with him. Because it wasn’t a shock. Not to him. Just to her.

“It’s over here,” Chloe said, indicating the alley that led off of the courtyard.

“Ah, splendid,” Lucifer said, still bedecked with lights and blender. He followed Chloe around the corner, casting a look at the darkening sky. “We should probably figure this out quickly.”

Chloe really had come to terms with the whole Lucifer’s-really-the-Devil thing. At least, she had gotten through the part where she refused to contact him for a full month. She had also powered through the part where they walked on eggshells around each other, neither sure how much of the truth the other was willing to acknowledge. She was, in fact, fairly certain that their relationship was on an upward trend. But still, Chloe was also fairly certain that her understanding of Lucifer was on par with her mother’s understanding of gay marriage: accepting, but still baffled and completely tone-deaf.

They reached the drab gray box protruding from the side of the building and Chloe immediately groaned. She rattled the box’s thin metal door a bit, confirming her suspicions. “Locked,” she said. She tapped her finger against the offending keyhole. “The building super probably has the key. There’s no way we’ll be able to get a hold of him at this time of day on New Year’s.” Maybe she could run to the hardware store and get tiki torches or something? Chloe had a few candles, that could work…

“No problem, Detective,” Lucifer said, interrupting Chloe’s Plan B strategies. He shifted the blender into the crook of his arm and ran his other hand down the side of the breaker box. Chloe couldn’t help but notice how sensual the action was. As his fingers passed lazily over the keyhole there was an audible ‘click.’ The door sprang open and squeaked on its hinges.

Because that was a thing he could do. Because he was the Devil. Just like how he could appear on roofs and on the other side of locked doors in a split second. Just like how he could bend steel in his bare hands and crush bone to powder. Just like how he could hypnotize people and drive them insane so they ended up in straightjackets smashing their own heads against the glass until they bled and…

“I’m sorry.”

Chloe looked up. Lucifer was staring at her with his big, unblinking dark eyes. How long had she been silent? “Sorry,” he repeated. “I… shouldn’t have done that. Or, I, uh, should have asked, or…”

No, no, no. They were _done_ with the walking-on-eggshells thing. They had passed that hurdle a while ago. And Chloe wasn’t about to make a U-turn. So what if her baser instincts hadn’t caught up with where she wanted to be intellectually? Chloe was a former actress and a woman in a male-dominated profession. She knew _all_ about fake-it-till-you-make-it.

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Don’t be sorry, Lucifer. You’ll be _sorry_ when we’re eating my mom’s coleslaw and we can’t even see our forks.” And she turned from him to wrench the breaker box door completely open.

Chloe stood there, waiting. And then:

“We could always eat inside, Detective.” She could hear the smile in his voice. The corner of her mouth twitched.

“Nonsense,” she said, borrowing his vernacular. “Trixie would be crushed. Now, none of the circuits look broken.”

Chloe felt Lucifer lean over her, his considerable height allowing him to easily peer over her shoulder. He radiated heat. “Hmm. Yes, you’re right. And none labeled.” He tsk’ed. “Might as well turn them all off and on again, then.” Breathlessly, Chloe agreed, “Right,” but he was already reaching over, his arm circling her as he did so. His sleeve brushed against her shoulder. Quickly, he flicked all the circuit breakers to ‘OFF’ and then back to ‘ON.’ And then he withdrew.

He stood back and looked at her. He was smiling, a little. “Shall we see if that made a difference?” he asked.

Chloe managed to recover the power of speech. “Uh, yeah,” she said. Very eloquent.

They returned to the festivities. Dan had finished with the first round of burgers, and Trixie and Ella were happily taking advantage of the buffet. Chloe and Lucifer approached the dead outlet again. Lucifer bent down and placed the blender on the ground. He then unwound the string of lights from his arm and plugged the end into the outlet.

Nothing.

Chloe huffed. “Ok,” she said. “I’ll go inside and get some candles. Then we can drive to the store quickly and get torches or lanterns or something.”

Lucifer just narrowed his eyes at the unresponsive electrical outlet. “Maybe…” he said, then stopped, cutting himself off. He bit his lip.

Chloe recognized this behavior. It was all he did in the first few weeks after she had gathered enough courage to start speaking with him again. Had her mini-freakout with the breaker box really affected him that much? He was hiding something. More than likely, he was hiding _himself_ from _her_.

“What?” she asked, trying to sound both casual and stern. He didn’t respond. “Lucifer, _what_?”

He raised his eyes tentatively to meet hers. “I could… you know.” And he made a gesture, like jazz hands. He spread his palms wide and wiggled his fingers.

Chloe raised an eyebrow. “Is that, like, an innuendo? That’s not helpful, Lucifer.”

“No!” Lucifer said, frustrated. His voice lowered to a stage whisper. “Detective, you’ve read the Wikipedia article on me, surely.” Chloe’s face must have been blank, because he continued: “My _name_ , Detective. It isn’t… apocryphal.”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Lucifer. _Lightbringer_.

Chloe felt the wave of another existential crisis threaten to overwhelm her. But she pushed it back, only to be bowled over by another, very practical kind of panic. What was Lucifer planning to do? Set something on fire? Build a sun, right here in the courtyard? Perform some casual New Year’s Eve fusion? What kind of ambiance does hellfire bring to a family barbecue?

Chloe found Lucifer’s eyes. They were big and brown and staring at her, asking her for… something. And, no… that was wrong. This was all wrong.

Chloe steeled herself. Lucifer was her partner. And she trusted him.

“Just… do it, Lucifer. Whatever it is. Just… just be you.” She chuckled weakly. “You don’t need my permission. You never did.”

Lucifer stared at her for a moment, his mouth open. And then… he grinned. Chloe loved it when he smiled at her like that. Like everything was right with the world. Like he was glowing from the inside.

Wait.

Wait a minute.

He _was_ glowing.

Just a little bit. Enough that the shadows around him were bent and diffused. Chloe didn’t have time to recover from her shock when there was a sudden flashbang, like someone had snapped a picture right in her face.

Chloe blinked away the spots in her vision.

The string of lights was illuminated.

“Woah, that was some spark!” said Ella, who was approaching them with a plate full of salad. “Kudos to you guys for figuring it out, though. So, what was it? Blown circuit?”

“Something like that,” said Lucifer. He stood, keeping his twinkling eyes on Chloe, who had finally managed to close her gaping mouth. He gave her a wink before turning to Ella. “Now, Ms. Lopez. If you could assist me…?” He indicated the strings of white lights wrapped around his person.

“Oh, yeah. Sure, dude.” Ella started to help Lucifer untangle himself.

Chloe blinked. This was reality. This was the new normal. She picked up the blender and took it back inside. When she returned she watched Ella and Lucifer (and Trixie, helping where she could) hang the lights around the courtyard. Chloe shook her head in mild disbelief. The lights on that string had always glowed dull yellow, she remembered.

Now they shone with brilliant, white light.

Later, the sky above them exploded with light and sound. Trixie ooh’ed and aah’ed at every flash of purple and streak of silver. Ella took the opportunity to explain to Trixie exactly how fireworks work in between her own cries of excitement. Linda, who was well into the champagne by now, cracked a joke that had Maze and Dan chuckling. Chloe’s mother looked incredibly affronted.

Chloe and Lucifer sat next to each other on a blanket laid out on the grass. They were separated by a respectable six inches. It would be so easy for Lucifer to reach around her and tug her to him. She would place her hand on his chest and rest her head on his shoulder and… and they weren’t ready for that yet. Close. But not yet.

Chloe watched a particularly large fireball explode into countless tiny sparks that shimmered as they faded from view, accompanied by a fizzling noise. It was very impressive… but her eyes were caught on the much smaller pinpricks of light that could barely be seen behind the smoke from the fireworks and LA’s ubiquitous light pollution. They shone with the same brightness as the twinkling fairy lights surrounding their little party.

Starlight.

Chloe snorted with laughter.

“What is it?” Lucifer asked, softly.

“Nothing,” Chloe tried to say with a straight face. But she sniggered.

“Oh, it’s definitely not nothing,” Lucifer said, smirking. “What are you thinking about?”

“I can’t tell you. It’s super corny. And it would only go to your head.”

“So it’s about me?” His smile turned lecherous. “Well, now I _have_ to know.”

Chloe shook her head and gave him a playful shove. He raised his hands in defeat before returning his attention to the night sky. Chloe sighed and did the same.

Chloe Decker’s partner was Satan himself.

He could light up her world anytime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a fix-it in more ways than one ;)
> 
> Happy early New Year's! Let's hope 2019 is a little kinder to all.


	3. WILD CARD

It was Valentine’s Day.

Dan knew this because today the entire precinct was covered in pink and red hearts, courtesy of one Ella Lopez and several enthusiastic uni’s.

He knew because there was nothing on the radio except obnoxious pop songs that droned on and on about the wonders of puppy love.

He knew because Lucifer walked into the precinct that morning with a huge bouquet of red roses. They took pride of place on Chloe’s desk and the two of them couldn’t keep their eyes off each other all day. And Dan wasn’t jealous. He really wasn’t. The divorce papers were signed and Dan had long made peace with the idea that he and Chloe were independent now, free to love and be loved by whomever they wished.

It was just that… he had almost had that. He had been so _close_. And then…

And then she was gone. And he hadn’t even _been_ there. He could only cradle her broken body in the aftermath and weep until he was torn away by officers who did nothing but offer him pathetic condolences.

And he could live with it. Really, he could. He could put on a brave smile and go to work and hang out with his friends and colleagues. He could play with his daughter and help guide her through _another_ traumatic event in her very young life. He could shower and brush his teeth regularly and cook a little. He might even start going to improv again soon. But not today. Not on Valentine’s Day. Not when he felt so empty that he was surprised there was anything inside him at all.

It was… nebulous. An impression. The outline of something stolen. He had… had something with Charlotte. Something more than just sex. A sense of potential. There had been _so much_ potential. Months and years that could have been spent waking up with her next to him. They would have eaten breakfast together. Worked together. Danced and kissed and laughed together. An entire future that stretched out to infinity, crystalline and perfect. And now it was shattered, stolen from underneath Dan’s feet, leaving him with nothing but empty void.

And so Dan had stumbled into a seedy bar, the first he saw on his commute home. The Beatles crooned _I Wanna Hold Your Hand_ over the bar’s radio, but Dan didn’t have the energy to ask the bartender to change the station. One pint and three shots later and the plan was to keep going until his vision turned fuzzy or the bartender capped him. Ideally he’d have a few moments of complete thoughtlessness before the night ended.

An elegant black sleeve with expensive cufflinks reached over Dan’s shoulder and picked up one of the upturned shot glasses. Dan heard a sniff behind him. “What _is_ this? Eugh, come to Lux next time. Why even go to a bar if you’re just going to drink this swill? Might as well pop by the closest 7/11 if this is truly what you desire.”

Dan turned, a bundle of anger and dread unfurling in his void. “Have you ever _been_ to a 7/11?” he asked.

“Of course not,” said Lucifer, slipping gracefully onto the barstool next to Dan. He motioned to the bartender and ordered his requisite scotch. Upon receiving it he took a sip and turned to look at Dan, grin in place. “So, what’s up with our favorite Douche?”

Dan narrowed his eyes. “Could ask you the same thing. What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened with feigned innocence. “I’m not allowed to check up on a friend?”

“Chloe sent you.”

“She did,” Lucifer nodded. He took another sip of his scotch.

“I would have thought you would be spending the night with her. Valentine’s Day and all.”

Lucifer smiled, and gestured elegantly with his glass. “Much as I do _not_ appreciate the artistic representations of cherubim strewn all over the place, today’s date holds no real significance. The Detective and I have plenty of time.” His expression turned wistful. And Dan wasn’t bitter, he really wasn’t. “And she wanted to spend tonight with the Spawn.”

‘Spawn.’ Lucifer’s word for Trixie. Ah, that made sense. “So, why…?”

“You looked pretty glum when you left the station. The Detective was worried.”

Oh. The bundle of anger and dread collapsed a little, leaving Dan feeling nauseous.

“I’m fine,” he lied. “I wasn’t planning on driving, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’ll get an Uber or something.”

“Nonsense,” Lucifer said, giving Dan several slaps on the back. Dan tipped forward, not prepared for Lucifer’s strength. “I’ll drive you home,” Lucifer continued. And he moved as if he was preparing to stand up.

But Dan wasn’t nearly drunk enough. “Really,” he said, brittle. “It’s fine. Go… be with Chloe, or whatever. I can take care of myself. I’m _fine_.”

Lucifer settled back into his seat, all humor dripping from his expression. “Ruddy holiday, this, if it provokes this kind of reaction. Charlotte’s safe, you know.”

Something twisted inside Dan. Hard.

“She’s up in boring old Silver City,” Lucifer continued, casually, oblivious of Dan’s increasingly thunderous expression. “Amenadiel took her. I found his feather. That’s why he hasn’t been around lately, in case you were wondering. Dad welcomed him home, evidently. With open arms.”

And… it snapped.

“SHUT UP!” yelled Dan. Everyone in the bar turned to look at him. Chastened, but still seething with anger, Dan looked Lucifer in the eye. “Shut up,” he ground out. “I get it. You have to filter everything through your fucking Davinci’s-code-angels-and-demons delusional bullshit. But not today, got it? Not today. Not right now. And not with me. Now leave me the fuck alone,” he finished, breathing hard.

Lucifer’s gaze hardened. He didn’t blink. Dan felt a shiver creep up his spine.

“I am so… tired… of not being believed,” said Lucifer, his obsidian eyes boring into Dan’s. His voice was the only sound Dan could hear, the Beatles having faded into the background.

Lucifer’s hand was suddenly gripping Dan’s arm, his ring digging into Dan’s flesh. Dan tried to pull away, but Lucifer’s grip was like steel. Dude was strong, Dan remembered. Strong and dangerous and sometimes a little psychotic. A spike of fear lanced through Dan’s chest.

Lucifer dragged Dan off his stool and towards the bar’s fire exit. Dan tried to protest, but all that came out was a weak “Hey… man…” and then they were outside, in the small space between the bar and the adjacent building. Lucifer finally released Dan and he stumbled a little over the uneven concrete. “Ow!” Dan cried, after he stubbed his toe. The alley was very dimly lit.

Growling in frustration, Dan turned to face Lucifer. Finally regaining his faculties, he yelled, hoarsely, “What the hell, man? What’s wrong with you?”

Lucifer just regarded Dan, unapologetic, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Everything, if you believe the scriptures,” he said. “Anyway, not the point. I’ve learned something, recently. Perhaps the truth really is the best policy. The whole and nothing but, so to speak. Sure, there’s always an adjustment period. The Detective took a little longer than the Doctor, yes, but what’s a few weeks or months to me, hmm? The Detective was an atheist, after all, so it really was to be expected. You’re Catholic.”

“Not… practicing,” said Dan, weakly. He had no idea what Lucifer was talking about. Wait. _Was_ an atheist?

“Well, here goes nothing,” said Lucifer, barreling on. He caught Dan’s eye, his gaze sharp as flint. “I have great expectations of you, Daniel.”

And then an enormous pair of pearlescent, white wings emerged from Lucifer’s back.

They were… beautiful. Each feather shone with its own internal light, casting the alley into chiaroscuro. They made an almost imperceptible noise, like the faintest of wind chimes dancing in an unseen breeze. They curved around the being in front of Dan, a little hunched due to the small space. They rose and fell with each breath the angel took.

The angel.

Dan was in the presence of an angel. He was _standing_ in front of a real, honest-to-God angel. Dan couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe. He may have made a choked noise, something like ‘eyughuh?’, but that was it. _For He will command His angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways_ , Dan thought, somewhat hysterically. _On their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone_.

Dan’s foot hurt.

“Come on, Daniel. I know you can handle this,” said the angel using Lucifer’s voice. The ethereal being wore Lucifer’s clothes and looked at Dan with Lucifer’s face. But it couldn’t be Lucifer. Because Lucifer was just a man. A really, really annoying man. And he was definitely no angel.

“Well, this _is_ disappointing.”

Funny. The angel was just as tetchy as Lucifer.

The wings disappeared suddenly and without warning, folding with a rustling noise into Lucifer’s back. The alley’s natural lighting snapped back into place.

“Well, so much for good intentions,” said Lucifer, finally dropping his gaze. He fiddled with his cufflinks. “I mean, ‘I come bearing glad tidings,’ and all that. I figured the wings were appropriate.”

Dan remembered that he could breathe. He gasped in a huge lungful of air and then expelled it shakily. “You… you’re… glad tidings?” he stammered.

“About Charlotte. Like I was saying, she’s in Heaven. She’s not here, and that’s terrible, I understand that now. But you’ll see her again. Well, as long as there’s no more skeletons in your closet that I don’t know about, ha.” Lucifer’s grin returned. “Anyway, she didn’t go to Hell, which is what she was so worried about.”

Dan had never had dreams this vivid. And he certainly wasn’t drunk enough to be hallucinating. Lucifer’s words finally caught up with him. He remembered Charlotte’s nightmares. She had been so driven. So convinced that what she was wasn’t good enough. That she had to be _better_. “She’s… okay?” he asked, his voice small and thready.

Lucifer nodded enthusiastically. “There, now you’re getting it. I knew this was the right decision. Hopefully this’ll stop you from destroying your liver and making the Detective upset. Call it a Valentine’s Day gift.”

Dan’s brain kicked back into gear. Charlotte was in Heaven. Dan knew this because an angel of the Lord told him. An angel who was…

“ _Lucifer_ ,” he breathed, hearing the name as if it was the first time.

“Yes?”

“But… you… _Lucifer_.” The nausea returned with a vengeance. Every Sunday school catechism Dan had ever learned crashed into him all at once.

“Ah. I see we’ve reached that stage. Well, let’s head it off at the pass, shall we? _No_ , I’m not here for your soul, or anyone else’s. _No_ , it’s not the apocalypse. _Yes_ , I’ve met Hitler. Briefly. Before the demons took him away.”

It was too much. Dan’s insides felt like spaghetti. He didn’t know what he was supposed to think, how he was supposed to feel. _Charlotte_. She was still out there, somewhere. Immortal souls being a thing, apparently. And wherever she was, she was safe and happy. And Dan might even see her again someday. Maybe. Dan clung to that thought, a life raft in a sea of confusion.

Dan reached out a hand and grasped Lucifer’s shoulder. The man was warm and solid and real. And that was enough for Dan right now. Maybe tonight’s plan wasn’t a total waste. He could at least stave off the approaching existential crisis until tomorrow morning.

Lucifer looked at Dan’s hand warily. “Is this the part where you try to ignore my existence for a while? Because, actually, I was kind of looking forward to it.”

Dan shook his head. “No… no, man… Let’s… go back inside. I’ll buy you a drink.”

“No way am I drinking whatever vodka monstrosity you were having. If we’re drinking we’re going to Lux. We’re having one of our themed nights, you know. Today’s festivities may only be in service of corporate gain, but it is a wonderful excuse for some good old-fashioned debauchery.”

That sounded like a good idea to Dan. Lucifer slung an arm over Dan’s shoulder and started leading him down the alley towards the street where Lucifer’s corvette was parked. As he climbed into the car Dan registered only superficially that he was riding shotgun with the Devil. That he was planning to get drunk with the real, actual Devil. Because the Devil was real. And angels were real. And Heaven and Hell were real.

None of it mattered.

None of it mattered because Charlotte was safe.

And for the first time in a long, long while, Dan didn’t feel so empty.


	4. Oblivious

“Helloooo, Detective,” oozed Lucifer. He plopped into the empty seat next to Chloe’s desk and then slid across it, cheek propped on one hand, almost knocking over Chloe’s decorative plant in the process.

Scrambling, Chloe managed to rescue the poor thing and return it to its proper place on her desk. Then she raised her eyes to meet Lucifer’s languid grin. “You’re late,” she snapped.

“Hehe, yeah,” agreed Lucifer easily. And then, petulant, “Are you going to punish me?” He pouted. He actually _pouted_.

“Uh,” said Chloe, unsure what to make of this situation. “Lucifer… are you okay?”

“Wonderful, darling,” Lucifer purred. He straightened up and then leaned backward, stretching like a cat. And then he just sort of flopped, like a puppet with cut strings. He sat unevenly in his chair and smiled at her.

“Lucifer, are you _drunk_?” Chloe asked, lowering her voice. “I mean… were you partying last night? Or, this morning, or something?”

Lucifer’s smile dropped and he looked at her condescendingly. “Surely you know the occasion, Detective?”

“Halloween?” ventured Chloe, eyebrows raised. She glanced briefly at the various spiders and cobwebs and ghoulish masks that decorated the precinct.

“No! No, no, no. Not Halloween. Psshhhh,” dismissed Lucifer, waving his hand. And then he seemed to lose his train of thought.

“Lucifer?”

“Hm?”

“What’s the occasion?”

His eyes regained some focus. “Why, Devil’s Night, of course!” he exclaimed, gesticulating. He grinned like the Devil he was. “Had a _lovely_ party at Lux. Almost put the orgies of old to shame. You should come next time, Detective!”

“I’ll, uh, think about it,” Chloe stammered, trying to clear the flood of images that appeared in the forefront of her imagination. “Anyway. So. You are drunk. Lucifer, you need to go home. Sleep it off. You can’t come to work like this.”

“I’m not drunk!” Lucifer protested. “Takes more than a couple bottles or ten to keep this Devil down.” Chloe tried not to boggle at that statement, because Lucifer was already moving on. He pointed a finger at her and said, very seriously, “Anyway, if I was drunk, would I have been able to bake a few dozen pot brownies this morning?”

“Pot brownies? You’re _high_?! Lucifer, how many brownies did you eat?”

Lucifer shrugged. “I don’t know. All of them, maybe?”

Alarmed, Chloe reached over and grabbed Lucifer’s wrist, feeling for his pulse. It was fast, but it wasn’t trying to escape from his skin. And he didn’t appear to be having a heart attack. Apparently that celestial constitution he was constantly bragging about was real. _Of course it’s real_ , Chloe chided herself. _Lucifer doesn’t lie_. And she was extremely grateful for his otherworldliness in this moment. The thought of emergency services rushing him to the hospital made her heart ache.

“THC is usually a little mundane for my tastes,” continued Lucifer, oblivious to Chloe’s ministrations. “But it does a wonderful job of making things… slower. Can’t think about too many things at once.”

“Okay,” said Chloe, dropping Lucifer’s wrist and gathering her strength. “Okay, well. Solution’s still the same. Lucifer, you need to go home and sleep this off. You can’t come to work drunk and you can’t come to work high, either.”

Lucifer rolled his head and blinked at her, like he was disappointed. “I can’t go home. That would defeat the object, Detective,” he said testily. But he still rose unsteadily from his chair. Relieved, Chloe followed suit. She didn’t want him driving in this condition. Maybe she could help him call a taxi or a rideshare.

But instead of heading towards the stairs that led to the precinct’s exit, Lucifer turned in the opposite direction. He approached the glass wall of the conference room. It was covered in Halloween themed stickers. Chloe’s heart sank when she realized that Lucifer had focused in on one sticker in particular. A little cartoon red devil. It had googly eyes, a grin filled with sharp teeth, and a pointed tail. It carried a pitchfork. It had horns.

Chloe mentally prepared herself for Lucifer’s usual tirade about inaccurate representations and copyright violation… But it didn’t come. Shocked, Chloe watched Lucifer reach out and touch the sticker with his right hand. He traced the devil’s tail with his thumb, almost reverently. Then he turned to her with a triumphant smile. “Detective, it’s me!” he cried. And then, excitedly, “I can do that too!”

Instantaneously, Lucifer’s skin and hair fell away, as if they were simply a veneer of makeup he had applied that morning. The scarred, burnt appearance Chloe had only seen once before revealed itself. And his eyes… they blazed red, a force of nature in their own right. He grinned at her with far too many teeth.

The Devil himself. In the middle of the precinct. In broad daylight. Where _anyone_ could see.

Chloe didn’t give herself time to think. She just grabbed Lucifer by his jacket sleeve and started dragging him down the hallway, past the vending machines. She opened the first unlocked door she could find – an office supplies closet, as it turned out – shoved Lucifer inside, turned the light on, and slammed the door shut behind her, leaning on it with her full weight.

“Ooooh, that was exciting,” said Lucifer. He was still red and scarred. A neat line of staplers caught his attention for a moment before he turned back to Chloe. “Are we going to have sex now?”

“WHAT?” screeched Chloe, her voice several octaves higher than normal. “No, Lucifer. No, no, no.” Even with his altered appearance, Chloe could see that he was disappointed. Crushed, even. “I mean, not right now, okay? It’s not a good time.” Lucifer nodded, apparently mollified.

Slowly, Chloe approached him. He leaned against the shelving that lined the walls, one scorched hand playing absently with a roll of packing tape. “Lucifer,” she started, slowly. “What’s going on? Has something happened? Is it because of Devil’s Night or Halloween or something?” Lucifer had always acted strangely around Halloween, Chloe realized. The first time he made out with witnesses and punched Dan and (she shivered every time she thought of it) placed himself in the crosshairs of a sniper. The second Halloween Chloe had been less aware of Lucifer’s state of mind. It was during the fuzzy period in their relationship after Chloe had learned the truth of his identity.

Chloe placed herself directly in front of Lucifer. She allowed herself a moment to truly examine him. She had only seen this apparition for a few seconds the last time, before Lucifer had fled the scene. Since then she had seen a flash of red eyes here and there, but he had never let her be privy to the whole thing. This close, she could see that he truly was a burn victim. If he was human, he would be dead. But there was something else, too. A shimmering aura that made his skin seem to shift and his eyes flicker. Chloe found she couldn’t focus on it for too long. Perhaps that was the part of him that drove people insane.

“I just want to forget,” he whispered, in a voice so soft Chloe had to strain to listen.

“Forget?”

“Don’t you see, Detective?” She really didn’t. “I remember _everything_.”

Like the exact turns taken in a Monopoly game. Or how they first met, the words and blocking repeated as if they were being read from a script. Or how it felt to fall from Heaven and burn. _Eons_ in Hell. Chloe found that she couldn’t breathe as the implications swept over her.

“So!” Lucifer continued, his cheeriness resurfacing. “What’s on the books, then? Another murder? Who do we need to punish today?” He smiled softly, but his eyes, now swirling yellow, were blank.

Lucifer wanted to forget. By any means necessary. Alcohol, drugs, distraction… it didn’t matter, as long as it kept awareness away for a little while longer. Suddenly a lot ( _a lot_ ) of his past behavior made sense.

Chloe placed a hand on Lucifer’s chest. As much to steady herself as to keep him in place. “Lucifer,” she said, keeping her voice as unemotional as possible. “What. Happened?”

Lucifer sighed and his smile dripped away. He looked down at her, his eyes a deep burgundy red. For the first time Chloe felt that he might be really all there, and he wasn’t going to drift away on the next tangent his brain supplied. Perhaps he was starting to sober up?

He said, in a low voice, devoid of emotion: “My brother died.”

A beat.

 “I killed him.”

Another beat.

 “I didn’t want to.”

Chloe was stunned into silence, but her mind kicked into overdrive. She thought back to their Talk, the one where she had insisted – no, _demanded_ – Lucifer tell her everything about the supernatural activities happening around her. At the time she had felt the story was highly edited. He had mentioned his Mother. And he spoke of a brother who had tasked himself with either returning Her to Hell or hurting Chloe. But Lucifer hadn’t said anything further on the subject. Only that he had taken care of the situation and ‘Mum’ was gone and Chloe was safe. And, of course, the dates lined up. Around Halloween, two years ago. And Lucifer, who could never forget, who would never be lucky enough to have his grief tempered by time… No wonder he broke down on the anniversary.

Chloe closed her eyes and sighed. She pulled Lucifer forwards and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. She rested her head on the soft fabric of his suit jacket. After a moment, he unfroze and returned the gesture. Lucifer was normally unusually warm but in his current form he felt feverish. It was like hugging an electric blanket.

“It’s okay,” she said. It was easy to forget, sometimes, that Lucifer wasn’t an official member of the LAPD. Never mind he was the Devil. Never mind he wasn’t human. He was a _civilian_ and he had never gone through rigorous police training. Training that included how to deal with the crushing guilt that came with taking another’s life.

Lucifer killed Pierce. He had told her, like a confession, that it was Pierce’s hand that delivered the fatal blow… But it was Lucifer who ensured the aim was true. Was that guilt weighing him down as well, like so many lead bricks?

“It’s not,” he replied, his voice thin.

But Chloe knew she could out-logic him any day. “You didn’t want to. So why did you?”

After a few shallow breaths: “He was going to kill Mum. He… he was going to kill _you_. I… I tried… I swear I tried… but…”

“So you were protecting the people you love.”

Lucifer pulled in deep breaths like he was preparing to protest. “I… I… _yes_ ,” he said, and neither Chloe nor Lucifer appeared to recognize the implications in his response.

“Lucifer, it’s okay,” Chloe repeated. “Things like this happen. Especially with the kind of work we do. I know it’s hard, but… you have to remember that you didn’t have a choice. _He_ put you in that position, not the other way around. _It wasn’t your fault._ And I know that doesn’t stop you from feeling guilty… But you can’t let guilt run your life. You have to accept what happened and… move on.”

Lucifer shifted and Chloe loosened her grip so he could pull out of the embrace. The area where his eyebrows would have been was furrowed. “Detective…” he breathed. And then his gaze fell upon his own hands, which were still resting lightly on Chloe’s arms. He inhaled sharply and flinched back.

“I’m sorry… I’m so…” His form flickered and the handsome club-owner stood in front of her once again, all traces of the infernal gone. “…sorry. I didn’t even realize. You shouldn’t have…”

But Chloe interrupted his apologies by taking his hands in hers. He stilled beneath her and she gave him a moment to see that she was fine. That she wasn’t freaking out. “Lucifer, it’s okay. Really. It is. How many times do I have to tell you?”

Lucifer huffed, a baffled smile gracing his features at last. “Detective, you are… something else.”

“Thanks, I think,” Chloe said, an impish smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Come on, let’s get out of this closet.”

Lucifer’s normal impertinence settled over him like a blanket. “You don’t want to make out against the spare paperclips for a bit? We’ve been in here a while. It would only mean living up to our fellow officers’ expectations.”

“Are you still high?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Then you’ve got no excuse.” Chloe opened the door of the supply closet, but stopped before she stepped through. She turned to Lucifer and pointed an accusing finger. “And don’t think you’re off the hook, Mr. Morningstar. Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again.”

“As you wish, Detective,” Lucifer said, and he followed Chloe through the door and back into the light.


	5. Accidental Injury

“Does any of this seem strange to you?” asked Dan as he handed a sopping wet plate to Chloe.

Chloe took the plate and started wiping it dry with a rag. “Does what seem strange?”

“Oh I don’t know…” said Dan as he submerged his hands in the sudsy water, vigorously scrubbing at a particularly greasy pan. “Maybe it’s just that… the actual, _literal_ Devil just cooked us Thanksgiving Day lunch. And now he’s outside with our _daughter_ and a _real life demon_ setting up a Slip n’ Slide.”

Chloe opened a cupboard and placed the plate inside. “He insisted on cooking, Dan. It’s not like I forced him.”

Dan stopped scrubbing and cast an exasperated glance at Chloe. “That _really_ wasn’t the part of the situation I was focusing on, Chlo.”

Chloe indicated with a pointed glare that Dan should get back to work. He acquiesced after rolling his eyes. “So, what’s the problem? You’ve known about Lucifer and Maze almost as long as me,” Chloe said as she wiped down a set of serving spoons.

Dan sighed. “It just hits you sometimes, you know? _No hell below us, above us only sky_. Pfft, I wish.” At Chloe’s silence, he continued, “And Lucifer’s Dad is God. Like, actual God with a capital G. Like, ‘Let there be light’ God. _And Lucifer was the light_. Doesn’t that get to you?”

Chloe shoved the silverware drawer shut with a little more force than necessary. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, it does, occasionally. Of course it does. So what?”

“What do you mean, ‘so what?’”

Chloe slapped her rag onto the counter and turned to face Dan. “I mean _so what_. How I feel and how you feel isn’t going to change how the world works. Lucifer and Maze are what they are. They always have been and they always will be. And what they _are_ is a damn good cook and a damn good babysitter.”

“Emphasis on the ‘damn.’”

“Shut up, Dan,” said Chloe, the fight draining from her as she picked up the rag again. There was a moment of awkward silence, broken only by the monotonous rhythm of dish to sink to cloth to cupboard. Finally, Chloe exhaled a heavy sigh. “ _Yes_ , sometimes I do freak out. A little. But then I remind myself that they didn’t choose this. They didn’t choose to be a… a…”

“An angel and a demon?”

“Right. Same as we didn’t choose to be human. They’re just living their lives. And they’re _good people_. Deep down. Beneath all the bluster and the hypersexuality and the inappropriateness and the violence and the condescension–” Realizing she could keep going for a while, Chloe blinked and finished her sentence with an awkward shrug. “Well, you know, no one’s perfect.”

Dan regarded Chloe with a raised eyebrow, elbows-deep in dishwater. “Uh huh. And you’re dating him. Lucifer. You guys are dating.”

Chloe’s eyes snapped to Dan’s. “We’re not…” she started, and then appeared to edit her thought. “We’re not calling it dating,” she said weakly.

“Riiight,” said Dan. “So you guys spending all your time together, and going out to eat, and him bringing you flowers, and you asking me to have Trixie over more often means… you’re not dating.”

Chloe leaned heavily on the counter and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Lucifer doesn’t like to call it dating, okay?” At Dan’s curious expression she continued, “Look, in the past, every time we tried to redefine our relationship something… bad… seemed to happen. I think Lucifer’s afraid that if we say it out loud something like that might happen again. So, we’re… taking it slow.”

“Like glaciers?” At Chloe’s murderous look, Dan nodded meekly. “Okay. Well. Wow. Didn’t know he had it in him.”

“He’s full of surprises.”

“Understatement of the millennium, probably.” Chloe huffed a little laughter, but was caught off guard by Dan’s next question: “So… have you thought about it? I mean… about dating Lucifer. Have you thought about what that means?”

Chloe raised an eyebrow slowly. “Right. Okay,” she said. “My _ex-husband_ is asking me if I know what it means to date a guy? Hm, let me think. Uh, yeah Dan, it’s not exactly my first rodeo.”

Dan sighed in frustration. “No, Chloe. I’m not talking about dating a _guy_. I’m talking about dating _Lucifer_. Who is not… a… guy?” Dan’s voice trailed off as he watched Chloe’s change in expression.

Chloe’s eyes were narrowed and her lips smoothed into a thin line. “Excuse me?” she spoke softly. “You better tell me _right now_ , Daniel Espinoza, what you mean by that,” she said, pointing a finger into Dan’s chest.

Dan raised his hands in surrender. “Look! Look. I’m not trying to be, uh, racist? I don’t think that’s the right… Anyway, you get that he’s an angel, right? He’s got wings. Like, real, huge angel wings. Have you seen them?!”

Chloe, incensed, pushed herself into Dan’s space. “Of COURSE I have. I’ve seen ALL of Lucifer. Definitely more than _you_.”

This was straying a little too far into Too Much Information territory, so Dan backed off, trying his best to keep up the pretense of doing the dishes. He washed and handed over the next item, which happened to be a large carving knife. “Ok, I get it. I’m sorry,” he said hurriedly. “I just don’t think you’ve thought this whole thing through.”

Chloe took the knife automatically. “No, _I_ get it. You’ve decided to be a condescending bitch today. On Thanksgiving. Just like old times.”

Low blow.

Dan whirled around, repeating Chloe’s action of pushing into her space. “He’s immortal, right? So you’re going to grow old, gray hair and wrinkles and everything, and he’ll be next to you, Mr. Playboy Model until the end of time? Are you sure you’re okay with that? Are you sure _he’s_ okay with that? He’s not exactly known for his faithfulness.”

“How _dare_ you–”

“How about them in-laws? I mean, I know my mother wasn’t the easiest to deal with, buy hey, she wasn’t _God_. She didn’t move people around like pieces on a chessboard and she didn’t _create the universe_.”

“You can’t–”

“What about kids? Do you want to have children with Lucifer? Tell me, how comfortable would you be giving birth to a child with _wings_? Maybe something to show off at _show-and-tell_?”

“Dan…” Chloe said, her voice thick with emotion.

“DETECTIVE!”

Lucifer burst into the room, grinning, clad in nothing but black swim trunks and flip-flops. Chloe flinched in surprise and dropped the knife. It fell, carving a deep gash on her arm, before clattering onto the kitchen tile.

“We’ve finished setting up outside but your offspring informs me that we need dish soap to make the slip-thing as slippery as possible and – Detective?” Lucifer cut himself off upon hearing Chloe’s sharp intake of breath.

“Chloe!” cried Dan. He reached out and held Chloe by her waist, guiding her to the floor as she clutched her injured arm with her other hand. The wide slash bisected her lower arm, higher than her wrist but still bleeding freely and way too fast. “Choe, can you hear me? It’s going to be okay. Everything’s going to be fine.” Dan grabbed the dish cloth off the edge of the counter and pressed it against the wound as firmly as possible. Chloe gasped in pain. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Oh, God, Chloe I’m so sorry,” whispered Dan. Then he turned to Lucifer who stood, frozen, in the kitchen’s entrance.

“Go get more coverings for the wound. And call 911. And keep Trixie out of the kitchen. She doesn’t need to see this,” said Dan firmly and with as much police professionalism as he could manage.

Lucifer didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. He just stared at Chloe – at the damp dish cloth that was doing little to soak up the blood or stop the bleeding – at the rapidly growing pool of red on the floor.

“Are you _deaf_?” cried Dan, his voice starting to break. “Go get help. She’ll be fine if we act quickly.” Chloe whimpered, the only sound she had made thus far besides her shallow breathing.

“I did this,” said Lucifer quietly. Dan was about to explode. This was _not_ the time for one of Lucifer’s guilt trips. But before Dan could loudly voice his opinion Lucifer stepped forward and kneeled beside Chloe.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” said Lucifer, apparently choosing to ignore Dan’s presence entirely. He focused all of his attention on Chloe and Chloe stared back, her gaze covered with a sheen of pain. “I’ll fix it,” he vowed, his eyes dark and his voice low.

And then Lucifer’s wings emerged, spreading and curling so that they enclosed all three of them.

Dan choked and Chloe’s eyes widened even further. The massive wings blocked out the kitchen's fluorescent lights but shone with their own internal light, bathing all of them with their diffuse glow. Some of the shorter feathers brushed Dan’s elbow as Lucifer maneuvered himself closer to Chloe. They were warm, practically bursting with energy, and softer than the smoothest silk.

Lucifer gently pulled Chloe’s arm away from Dan’s grasp and removed the cloth, which was now filthy with soap and blood. Dan’s heart squeezed and he opened his mouth to point out that nothing was stopping the bleeding now. But he found that the words choked and died before he could voice them, paralyzed as he was by the angel's presence.

Keeping his eyes on Chloe the whole time, Lucifer reached behind himself and made a tugging motion. His hand returned holding a tiny down feather. It seemed to shine even brighter than the rest of Lucifer’s feathers, and Dan found he had to glance away after dark spots started to fill his vision.

Tenderly, Lucifer placed the feather against the open wound. Instead of crying out in pain at the touch, Chloe sighed in relief, as if the feather was a healing balm. Then Lucifer covered both the feather and the wound with his hand. The light intensified under his touch, spilling out from between his fingers. Dan slammed his eyes shut, but the ensuing flashbang still caused a searing pink-tinted glow to explode behind his eyelids.

Slowly, Dan blinked his eyes open, just in time to see Lucifer remove his hand. The feather was gone and so was the wound, Chloe’s arm now an expanse of perfect, unbroken skin. The soiled rag and the pool of blood were now the only testaments that Chloe had ever been injured in the first place. The angel was gone too and it was just Lucifer – Lucifer the man – cradling Chloe by her shoulders. He whispered something in her ear before standing.

“Right,” said Lucifer, looking at Dan for the first time. “You said you didn’t want the Spawn to see this? She probably heard something. I’ll head her off.” And he left the kitchen at a brisk pace.

The kitchen was silent for several moments, its occupants quiet as they struggled to digest this recent turn of events.

“Chloe–” Dan started, but Chloe cut him off.

“It’s fine, Dan. I’m okay. I’m really… really okay,” she said, a little reverently. She brushed a hand in wonderment over the space where, just minutes before, her life’s blood spilled freely. She started to stand, stumbling a little in the process. Dan caught her by the elbows and helped her as he, too, rose unsteadily.

“Chloe, please, I’m sorry,” Dan said. “I didn’t mean what I said. It’s just–”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s NOT fine,” Dan croaked hoarsely. Chloe blinked up to meet his gaze. “It’s just… just… you deserve the world, Chloe. After Pierce… _shit_ , after _me_ … I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.” And then the irony of his statement made him exhale a tiny huff of laughter.

Chloe sighed.  She spoke slowly, as though she was discovering her words one by one. “I know… things have been strange lately. And I know Lucifer and I are different. Really, _really_ different. Different is kind of an understatement.” She gulped. “And I know things are going to be hard. They have to be. There’s no way they won’t be. There are things we haven’t talked about… that we need to…” A squeal of laughter from outside interrupted Chloe. Trixie, no doubt, enjoying the abnormally warm November weather. Blinking, Chloe returned her attention to Dan. “But all of it… he’s worth it, I think. No, I _know_ , even if he doesn’t believe it sometimes. I’m willing to fight for this. And I’m not walking into this blind, Dan. I know what I’m getting into, now more than ever.”

Dan nodded. He took in a deep breath, once, twice. Three for good measure. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

“We should clean this up,” Chloe said, looking down at her clothes, which were speckled with red. Not to mention the pool of browning liquid that was seeping into the kitchen tiles.

“Right,” said Dan. His eyes caught on the bottle of dish soap resting by the kitchen sink. He picked it up and waved it at Chloe. “Let’s do it quickly, though. There’s a Slip n’ Slide out there with our names on it.” He cracked a grin.

Chloe smiled back. And, soon enough, the kitchen was clean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was fun! It was great to be able to explore different characters, different situations, different tones and themes... some of these definitely turned out better than others but the whole thing was a learning process.
> 
> I'm currently checking Twitter like a mad-woman for updates from LuxCon@Brighton. SO jealous of the people who got to go. Looks like a lovely time.
> 
> Until the next, then! Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading!


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